Trying Not to Move
by Medea Arduinna
Summary: Victoria Spencer thought when she left the Wizarding world for good as Hermione Granger she wouldn't have to face anybody from it ever again. Then Draco Malfoy comes along and changes everything.


**Trying Not to Move**

_But now I've got to worry   
__Cause boy you still look pretty   
__When you're putting the damage on..._

_··_

Heels clicked on the cobblestone road, the crunch of glass causing her to look down. She was sure there were plenty of broken butterbeer bottles around from numerous fights in the past. She looked back up at the somber building and sighed resolutely. Why he'd chosen this place to meet, she didn't know. But she was here, and she couldn't turn back now, so she tucked her purse against her hip and pushed the door open.

There was a gaunt man seated at a piano droning on about lost love, and the bartender leered at her as she entered the building somewhat reluctantly, his black eyes flickering over her body. She wanted to pull out a wand and have at it, but not in a Muggle place like this. Besides, she didn't even remember where she'd put her wand. She nervously lifted her hand to her hair before she made her way to the bathrooms, tapping the back wall of the small hallway that led to the toilets and slipped through it.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming," his deep voice greeted her immediately, and she closed her eyes, trying to stop the flood of memories coming to her now. She could practically feel his gaze burning through her, smiling as he memorized the way she looked in her knee-length dress and sweater buttoned from the middle down. Maybe he was even thinking of that night. Or the one after that, or the twenty more until... no, surely he wasn't.

_You know what they say though, every nine seconds..._

"Well I'm here, now do you want to tell me what you wanted me here for?"

"I already told you what I wanted. To see you."

"There's more than that. I'm not completely stupid." She opened her eyes to see him walking to her.

"Far from it. I'll cut straight to the chase, then. Some papers of my father were found, and we have to search the old mansion. Dumbledore asked if I'd do it alone but there are far too many spells to get through without help, and since my father knew I wasn't a true Death Eater, he kept me from getting the plans to the mansion. As you can guess, your name came up." Her spine stiffed, her throat went dry. Her gaze met his, and she felt like going home and wiping her own memory. She'd been doing so well, too...

"Why mine?"

"Don't play that game with me, you know why," he said, sighing exasperatedly. "You were an Auror for two years before that damn battle after which you just... disappeared. You were top of our class, and probably the most brilliant witch to grace the halls of Hogwarts since Rowena Ravenclaw. Don't pretend like you don't know. Everyone was thinking you anyway."

"I haven't picked up my wand since that day, you know. If I do that, I'll be breaking a promise I made ot myself all those years ago."

"It was only four," he said, and she shook her head. "Please, you're the only one who knows more spells than all the AUrors in the Ministry. Between you and I, we could get it done in three days, maximum." She swallowed hard.

"I thought when I became Victoria Spencer I wouldn't have to face my past ever again, and I could be any Jane Doe I wanted, and nobody would ever know the difference. Do you know what you've done?"

"Yes, and I'm not the least bit sorry. You shunned us away. And me - I could understand why. But what about Potter and Weasley? They haven't been the same, especially Potter, and Ron - he's getting married. He wanted you to be at the wedding. You told me once you loved me. How can you if you turn me away a second time? We're older, and not so prone to making rash decisions. I just don't see how that works out." When she didn't answer, he closed the distance between them, put his hands on her hips to draw her against him, and kiss her. When she didn't move, he ran his tongue along her lower lip but she still didn't respond, though her body ached to, her hands itching to run through his flaxen hair, the burning in her soul never quite quenced when she left the Wizarding world. Not with George Pennington, not with Jeremy Sporter, and all because she'd done what she'd strived so hard against during their years at Hogwarts.

She'd fallen in love with him.

Through all their arguments, there had been sexual tension, and it had all just come out their last year... and yet, he was almost exactly how she'd remembered him - cinnamon, light cologne, and something that was only him. There was somewhat of an almost physical ache inside of her chest, but he drew back before she could do something she'd been trying to prevent from doing the moment she saw him again.

"If I tell you I love you still," she said, her voice barely a whisper on the wind, "then I renounce everything I've built these last four years from my previous life's end. It's easy to say 'I love you' and not mean it, but for me to tell that to you I'd _have_ to mean it. And I'm not ready for that again."

"I'm not asking you to love me again, or admit that you do - whichever comes first. I'm not even looking for your friendship. I'm just looking for your cooperation, and Dumbledore needed an answer by tomorrow at midnight." She swallowed hard again. Her magic ability was as much a part of her as he was, for when she went back to him, she would come back to that ability.

When she returned home, she went straight to her room and started tearing it apart, searching. Finally she found it in her bureau, and closed her eyes as she gripped the slender wood. She looked in her mirror, saw the way her hair tumbled down her shoulders, saw the way she looked in the outfit, saw how it wasn't her. She looked like a stranger holding a wand somewhat awkwardly.

She sat down at her desk and started composing a letter.

_Draco,_

_I'll do it._


End file.
